


Head Scritches

by DemonicPresence



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Stress, he works too much, logan needs a break, may or may not be a slight self-insert, virgil helps him out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPresence/pseuds/DemonicPresence
Summary: Logan works himself too hard. Virgil has a way of getting him to rest.





	Head Scritches

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for my dear friend, @wandering-scarecrow on Tumblr (Go check him out, he has some seriously awesome writings)

_3:23 AM_

The soft blue numbers of his digital watch glowed in the darkness of Logan’s room, the only other light sources being that of his desk lamp and monitor as he wrote. Rain pitter-pattered against the window pane in his room, an addition he added after he discovered the soothing properties of rainfall after reading in the common room one afternoon. This window reflected the elemental status of the world outside, the sounds drifting through Thomas' subconscious as he slept. 

Pages and pages of papers littered his desk, their usual tidiness turned to chaos. Schedules, story ideas from Roman, various exercises and topics he was studying, both for Thomas’ benefit and his own enjoyment. Logan was slumped over these, eyes bleary and red-rimmed behind his glasses, pen ever scratching away at his notes.

The desk had fallen out of his organization standards. There was one of his ties resting on the bedside table. His sweater and a polo were discarded on the floor, a few more articles of clothing laying upon the reading armchair by the window. A few books were strewn here and there across the room, rather than on their orderly places upon his bookshelves.

To anyone else, the room was still clean. Not even five minutes would be spent in returning the room to its orderly state. To Logan, it was a mess; a direct reflection of his stress levels. When things got messy in his head, his room got messy, which in turn stressed him more. But there was working to be done, tasks to finish, and at the end of the day he would collapse to bed, promising himself every night that he would get to it the next day. 

He said that the next day, and the day after, and the day after still.

 

A soft knock on the door started him from his daze. Groaning softly, Logan stood from his chair, stretching and cracking his muscles wearily as he passed to the door. Opening it, he was greeted with the sight of Virgil at his door.

“Virgil. What can I do for you at this hour? Do you need assistance?” Logan asked quietly, his eyes scanning Virgil up and down for signs of distress. Virgil shrugged and fiddled with a book in his hands, his headphones nestled around his neck.

“Couldn’t sleep. Was wondering if I could chill in here. It’s a bad night,” Virgil said, shifting nervously from foot to foot as he waited for Logan’s dismissal. On the contrary, Logan stepped back and opened his door wider.

“Certainly. My reading chair by the window is available to you. There is rain tonight, projected to last until midmorning, which will provide a soothing backdrop for relaxation,” Logan replied, walking back to his desk chair as Virgil settled in the comfortable seat.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” came Virgil’s soft question across the space, quietly flipping open his book.

“No, I have not slept tonight. I do not think I will; there is far too much to complete before I can rest,” Logan said without looking back at his companion. Virgil pursed his lips and said nothing, studying Logan over the edge of his book.

 

All was quiet for a short time, save the scratch of pen against paper, the rustling of pages of a book, and the soft hum of music audible from Virgil’s headphones. As the hours passed, Virgil increasingly glanced at Logan, taking in his slumped shoulders, slack grip on the pen, the hand clenched in his hair. Virgil sighed inwardly and quietly shut his book.

“Logan, buddy, it’s almost 6 a.m.; it’s normal for me to be awake at this time, but you? You’re the living embodiment of “Early to Bed, Early to Rise” if I’ve ever met one, except for maybe Dad,” Virgil said, rising from his chair, leaving behind his book and his headphones.

“I have already stated, Virgil, I cannot rest until this gets done. It is imperative that these schedules are finalized, and Roman’s ideas be edited down from flights of fancy to the realm of reality,” came Logan’s monotonous reply.

“Work can wait, Lo. You need to rest. You’ll feel better in the morning,” Virgil said, walking silently behind the Logical side until he was right behind him.

“This must be done now-”

“It’s not worth doing now because it won’t be your best. You’re the one always telling me about optimal sleep and work habits and stuff. Don’t make me make you go to sleep.” At this Logan scoffed. There was no way Virgil could possibly do anything to force him to—

Oh. _Oh._

Logan groaned quietly as Virgil’s fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp gently as Virgil worked his fingers in soothing circles. Virgil smirked as Logan’s eyes slid shut, all tension seeping from his limbs as he relaxed against his chair. Virgil dug his fingers in a little harder, firmly pressing against the sinus cavities in Logan’s head, causing him to melt under Virgil’s touch.

“Told you,” Virgil teased, keeping up the massaging motions, “What was that line from that one play Roman likes? Take a break?”

“Roman likes many frivolous theatrical productions. I believe that is from the one called Hamilton,” Logan murmured, his voice lacking its usual crisp tone.

“Oh yeah, the one with the rapping. You must like that one, huh?”

“I admit I have not heard it before; perhaps I shall discuss it with Roman at some point.” Logan was getting drowsier by the minute, his body slouching and his head lolling back against the chair. Virgil’s fingers went to the base of his skull, massaging the tension from the back of his neck.

“Okay Specs, up. You need sleep, and I’m not leaving till you get it. Don’t make me call Remy in here; he’d have a field day,” Virgil grinned as he helped Logan up, leading him over to his bed. Peeling back the covers, he waited as Logan climbed under them, snapping his fingers to change Logan's clothes to a black t-shirt and pajama bottoms with owls on them. He reached down and gently removed Logan’s glasses, carefully wiping down the lenses with the cleaning cloth in the case on the bedside table, placing them inside the case a moment later.

Quietly, as Logan started to drift off, Virgil went about the room and straightened it up: saving Logan's work and powering down the computer, organizing his papers best he could (he took the stacks and piled them into one, each separate stack alternating long ways and upright as he went, so as to keep some semblance of how Logan had it, but still somewhat ordered). The books were shelved in their proper places and the clothes tossed in his hamper, his ties hung up. Surveying his work, Virgil hummed in satisfaction, glancing over at the dozing Side. Opening his eyes blearily, Logan raised his head with some difficulty to look at Virgil.

“Virgil… Can you… Would you stay?” Logan muttered, half asleep. Virgil started in surprise; of all the things he ever expected out of the Brainiac’s mouth, that wasn’t one of them.

“A-Are you sure?” Virgil asked. He had to. He had to make sure. Logan nodded, and at this Virgil snapped into his own pajamas, a purple tank top and black shorts emblazoned with his thundercloud logo, crawling into the bed with Logan. Logan, near dead to the world, instantly curled into Virgil, murmuring softly. A warm, genuine smile graced Virgil's lips as he yawned, settling at Logan’s side, facing him, the last thing that graced his sight as he went to sleep was Logan’s face, finally relaxed and tension-free, sleeping soundly next to him.

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not be a slight self-insert on the fastest possible way to get me to relax. Hope you enjoyed~


End file.
